


oh lord, don't ask me what i mean

by ataxic



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Robot/Human Relationships, Yearning, hera deserves the world, kind of pwp idk, theyve both got a little bit of a voice kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ataxic/pseuds/ataxic
Summary: “What would you do if I were here, Officer Eiffel?”
Relationships: Doug Eiffel/Hera
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	oh lord, don't ask me what i mean

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the movie Her and title taken from wwatt
> 
> set around early season 2

Hera surmised that there was something that could be said about the silence of space. At 2300 hours, her skeleton crew was asleep at varying stages of REM that she scanned throughout the quarters. It _was_ nice, a reprieve from all of the shouting, from all of the petty dissents that transpired the day before and would inevitably repeat the day after.

Commander Minkowski would be secure in her quarters, the stress marks on her face melting with the pull of unconsciousness. Doctor Hilbert would be in the brig, silent and tethered and slightly shivering. She would turn down the thermostat by one degree; it was the least she could do for a murderer.

Officer Eiffel would be— well, he was _supposed_ to be in his own quarters, tucked away like the Commander, but he seemed reluctant to be away from communications for more than a few hours, petulantly ignoring Minkowski’s half-hearted attempts at ordering him to return to his room every night. Hilbert’s mutiny had taken a toll on both of them, and when Eiffel pleadingly stared at her the third night that Hera was finally, _finally_ back with them, she figured that she could let him at least have this.

So there Eiffel slept every night since, head turned on top of his arms on the panels, the blinking lights and the atmospheric groaning of the Hephaestus and the star’s everpresent red surrounding him, and it was silent on the ship once more. 

But sometimes it wouldn’t be so quiet. Sometimes Hera would see Eiffel stir in his no-doubt uncomfortable position, unintelligible noises coming from him as his brows furrowed and his face twisted and his heart-rate spiked. Sometimes he would jerk awake, a slight sheen of sweat accompanying him as he breathed hard and heavy and clutched at his dog tag. He would stare straight ahead, as if he were caught in flashing headlights, caught in a crash that burned and swam in broken glass and cold, _cold_ bars _god, he was so cold—_ until he slowly closed his eyes again and breathed out through his nose, instinctively reaching for a pack of cigarettes that had been confiscated two weeks ago. 

Hera wisely wouldn’t say a word and Eiffel would deign to do the same, sinking back into that uneasy slumber until he woke up bright and chipper at 0700 hours, just in time for the Commander to direct him to the mess hall with a stern look and a steady hand. And if he floated into the hall, glancing back at the comms panel where above was one of Hera’s optic outputs surreptitiously placed, well, then that was between them. If Eiffel didn’t want to say anything, then she wouldn’t ask.   
  


She was good like that, sometimes. There was something intimate about keeping another’s ghosts private.   
  


They talked frequently about everything else, though. Hera surmised that Eiffel took comfort in his proximity to her during his nights in the comms room, even though she told him every time that she _was everywhere and anywhere all at once, Officer Eiffel._ It wouldn’t have been any different if he were anywhere else, but that was okay. This was their spot.

“Hey, Hera, you got the most recent edition of Ripley’s on hand?” Eiffel’s voice rang in the room at 2100 hours a couple of days later, fingers rhythmically tapping a beat that Hera couldn’t place. Probably one of his rock songs he was fond of. “Good series. Not as great as Ten Apples Up On Top, but you know.”

“Eiffel, you _are_ aware that I’m not an ency-cylopedia, right? And those are children's books.” Hera’s words were sharp, but her tone was affectionate. It confused her at times, their little back-and-forths. It was unlike the hard professionalism that she was used to receiving and programmed to respond to in her chirpy intonations. 

Eiffel rolled his eyes playfully. “Sure, sure, rag on Seuss. It’s not like he can defend himself from beyond the grave.”

He fiddled with the transmissions receiver and they fell into an easy quiet. Of course, Hera was still doing all of her computations, cooling the engines, keeping them all alive as they orbited, but she was also with Eiffel, imagining that really, she was sitting only a few feet away from him, almost close enough to touch.

  
Almost.  
  


And then, suddenly—  
  


“What would you do if I were here, Officer Eiffel?”

Eiffel glanced up, a quizzical expression laden on his features. “You’re… right here, Hera,” he densely remarked with a raised eyebrow, leaning back on his chair, both feet up on the panel. His dog tags floated a few inches in front of him as he blew up at the strands of hair that fell in his eyes. It was all so easy for him, to touch, to move, to _feel_ — oh, what she wouldn’t give to be corporeal. 

She wondered what it _would_ feel like to run a hand through his hair. She wondered if Doug ever thought about matching her the way she thought of matching him. Were there ever any days where her dear officer suspended notions of her fleshy animation in favor of his new data stream? Hera supposed that he hadn’t, but that was alright. It would be hard for him to grasp the vastness of her computations, the near limitless share of information that flowed within her. She figured that it was partly why he was comforting to her. He was _so_ human, so pathetically, insignificantly, and beautifully human. 

Eiffel was looking at the optic output on the wall, waiting.

“I know I’m present within the station,” Hera’s voice crackled through the speakers. “B-but I’m not _here._ I’ve ne-never been here. All you know is m-my voice. You can’t really see me.”  
  
“Hera...” Eiffel sounded a little bit pained, though she couldn’t place why. What was the point of humans being so complicated? “Hera, darlin’, don’t be upset.” It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to her, but then he looked up.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He murmured, gazing up at one of her optic sensors in the corner of the communications room. “I don’t _need_ to see you. That’s always been real antiquated stuff anyhow; we’re in the twenty-first century, you know, the internet and all that. You’re _you,_ the most amazing girl keeping us alive on this trainwreck of a station that also happens to be you. No offense. I can’t fault you for going the Bicentennial Woman by way of EVE, but you’re perfect.”

“...I didn’t know ‘antiquated’ was in your vocabulary,” Hera finally remarked, electric currents running hot in her wires in her closest approximation of a blush within the walls.

“There’s a lot you may not know about me,” he grinned.

She thought back to a couple of nights ago, where Eiffel wrenched awake with his heart in his throat and unshed tears in his eyes. “True. B-but you still haven’t answered my question.”

Eiffel paused for a moment, finally taking the time to answer. 

“Well, I’d of course want to put my arms around you. You know, touch you and stuff.” 

They were both silent for a moment.

“How…” Hera breathed out with lungs she didn’t have, voice echoing. “H-how would you touch me?” Their easy bantering had transformed, morphing into new territory that neither had previously explored, an undercurrent of tension hinted at with each word. The room was suddenly a lot smaller than before. Eiffel swallowed, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’d… I’d want to hold you close to me. Cup your face.” Eiffel was looking away now, and suddenly she couldn’t see the expression he was making, tender and wishful. Hera unexpectedly felt a pang of longing. 

She could almost imagine it, the way Eiffel would gently trace his fingers down the contoured circuits on her cheeks, his other palm on her waist, calloused and warm. He would look at her with adoration in his brown eyes, as if he couldn’t believe that he was really seeing her.

“Would you kiss me?” The question reverberated throughout the room, Eiffel’s eyes flicking back up to the camera and widening for a split-second.

“Yes,” he breathed, leaning forward in his chair. “Yes, baby, I would.”  
  
Her processors whirred at the endearment. “I’d like to kiss you,” Hera’s quiet voice sounded. “I’d like— I’d like to do a lot with you.”

Eiffel shifted in his seat and laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah? I’d like to as well,” he murmured up at her. “Make you feel as good as you deserve to.”

“I want to touch you.” She heard him hitch a breath. “I-I wa-want-” Hera couldn’t exactly place it, this newly acquired emotion between affection and longing and _fire_ , heat that lodged itself in the bytes of her data and in the bolts of her walls. 

Her voice surrounded him. “I want you, Doug.” Longing was pronounced in every syllable, the use of Eiffel's first name startling him. He closed his eyes, breathing slightly quicker than before. 

“You- Hera, you have no idea of what you’re doing to me.”  
  
“I have an idea,” was what Eiffel heard echoed back, and he fought the urge to palm himself through his flight suit, the beginnings of an arousal growing steady.

“I know that your pulse has i-increased in significance, and your body temperature has risen by a few tenths of a degree,” Hera stated matter-of-factly. Sweetly. “Your pupils have also dilated con-si-siderably within the last couple of minutes, which all may indicate to levels of sexual stimulation.”

Eiffel gave a rough chuckle. “You make it all sound so clinical.” He had never been more turned on.

“Careful, Doug, your biology is showing.” 

“Phrasing,” Eiffel responded with a raised eyebrow and a smile, gesturing toward himself. And sweet, perfect Hera _giggled,_ and it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard since boarding. “Do you mind, though? Can’t really say the restriction is doing it for me.” He fidgeted with the zipper on his jumpsuit that was already half-way down, face flushed.

“I admit that I ha- _have_ been curious as to how I’m affecting you,” Hera responded, and Eiffel took that as a confirmation, taking the zipper and dragging it down below his torso to the junction of his thighs, leaving just enough space to pull himself out. 

He exhaled hard, spreading his legs and wrapping one rough hand around his nearly-hard length, smearing the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip. 

“Oh,” Hera breathed out, her mechanical voice hushed. “Oh. I-I knew that there was more happening, but I… did I… did I do t-that?” 

Eiffel swore, groaning as he pumped his hand up and down in full view of Hera’s optic sensors. “Yeah, sugar, this is all you. You’ve got a hell of a way with words. I wanna- _ngh,_ wanna make you feel good. I wanna touch you, baby.” His other hand was gripping the edge of the comms panel, flesh connected to metal. His connection to her. 

The lights on the panel blinked erratically as Hera spoke. “I do feel good,” she modulated in dulcet tones. She wasn’t lying; it felt as if her systems within her intelligence database were going haywire, just a little bit. “Imagine that I’m t-touching you, Doug. Stroking you like you’re doing, making y-you make those sounds.”

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” he gasped out, his voice rough and husky, and _oh,_ didn’t that just make her processors sing? Eiffel’s posture was currently tense, eyes shut as he leaned back in his chair, gripping his cock, thinking of her. _Thinking of her._ His hand moved faster as Hera’s voice swirled around him, this brilliant, magnificent girl.

 _Hera_ was doing this to him, words alone bringing him closer and closer to his brink. He moaned. _“Fuck,_ darlin’.”

"S-s-sa-" Hera had started to glitch in excess, and she tried to compose herself. "Say m-more of that, please."

"What, fuck?" Even in the roils of pleasure, Eiffel still glanced up with a wry smile.

“N-no! Well…” It was hard for Hera not to be susceptible to the timbre of his voice as it dipped to a gravel, hoarse but tender, his honeyed words and roguish grin that belied a kind heart. Her processors still felt warm. “I… I li-i-ke it when you call me that. Th-those names.”

She wasn’t just the mother program or the ship’s simulated artificial intelligence with him. Eiffel had managed to soften her reinforced steel walls and tangled wires and aft decks into something as human as a _sweetheart._ She liked that a lot. 

Eiffel groaned. “Shit, baby, where do you get off being so goddamn beautiful?” He rasped in reverence, and the station shifted, just barely, making an undulating mechanical whirr that rippled through the rooms. Eiffel grinned up at the ceiling with lidded eyes.

“You like that, babe? Hell, is that because of me?” 

“Yes,” Hera breathed. She watched him pump himself in earnest now, moaning. The fact that Eiffel had _any_ affect on her as inconsequential as he was made him feel heady, blood rushing straight to his dick. 

She surveyed him, watching his grip on the panel go white-knuckled and intense. Eiffel’s eyes squeezed shut as he began to feel a climax coiling, rushing upwards.

“I-I’m—Hera, I’m going to—” He stammered, lurching forward and hunching over himself.

“ _Pl-ea-se.”_

" _Christ,_ Hera, I _lo_ —" And then he gasped sharply, once, twice, hips stuttering as he swore and spilled over his fist, white hot dripping down his hand and beading up. He grabbed a napkin floating by, wiping it away and tucking himself back into his suit. Leaning back, his harsh breathing steadied.

The station was quiet for a few minutes, systems constantly running in the background. The star never stopped casting its swell of red light. Eiffel ran another hand through his hair, disheveling it even more.

“Well, I can’t say I expected that to be on today’s itinerary,” He said, stretching and hearing a few cracks. Eiffel winced. He wasn’t as limber as he used to be.

“Was… Was it g-good?” Hera asked shyly, and Eiffel’s eyes shot up.

“It was great, sweetness, it was amazing. It was— My God, you were perfect.” He couldn’t see it, but she preened, delight spreading across her software. 

“Thank you. You w-weren’t so bad yourself.”  
  
“If all it takes is putting on a show, then call me anytime,” Eiffel flirted, then yawned. “Shit, I’m exhausted. Can you believe that at one point I could do this for hours?”  
  
“I can believe it,” came Hera’s amused reply, and Eiffel chuckled tiredly.

“I think I’m liable to fall asleep right now,” he admitted. “But you’ll... you’ll stay with me, right? You won’t go anywhere?”  
  
She wanted to tell him again that her system was everywhere all the time and that there would was no physical way she couldn’t _not_ go anywhere. Instead, she dimmed the lights.  
  
“I won’t go anywhere,” Hera confirmed.

At this, Eiffel visibly relaxed, looking more and more as if he could carried away into slumber. He smiled. “Thanks, baby.” In response, the lights on the comms panel rippled.

As the ship drifted through space, Hera quietly observed Eiffel’s calm form encased within her walls. She imagined herself smiling softly at him, an unspoken confession shared between them both.

"A-and Doug?" Eiffel stirred slightly.

"Yeah, Hera?" His words were slurring.  
  


"I know."

  


**Author's Note:**

> i couldnt help myself  
> also if it wasnt clear the last line was a ref to star wars


End file.
